


Home is Where the Heart Is

by LittlebutFiery



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Fluff, Royai Week, Royai Week 2018, minor angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlebutFiery/pseuds/LittlebutFiery
Summary: 5 times Roy and Riza don't feel at home despite being at home, and one time they finally come home.





	Home is Where the Heart Is

Riza sighed, staring at the front door from her place at the kitchen table as if she was waiting for it to open. She knew that no one was going to walk through the door. No one ever did, except Roy.

And Roy was gone.

Based on the argument Roy and her father had had before Roy left, he was gone forever.

Oh, it had been a hell of an argument. Their angry yells had echoed through the dusty halls of the estate, so loud Riza could make out their words even while shuttered in her room. She’d contemplated intervening, shouting the both of them into submission, but she’d known that the sight of her would’ve made it worse. She’d always been a touchy subject between the men. Her father hadn’t approved of how obviously Roy cared for her, and Roy hadn’t approved of how obviously her father _didn’t_ care for her.

So she’d sat and listened to them spit and snarl like angry tomcats before Roy had collected his things and stormed out without even saying goodbye. When she’d tried to go after him, her father had all but locked her in her room.

It had been a week since Roy left, and things hadn’t gone quite back to normal, whatever “normal” was. More mornings than not, she’d accidentally made three breakfasts instead of two, by force of habit.

Even now, she sat at the table with two cups of tea before her, a green tea for her and a rich, spiced tea for Roy. Both had gone cold as she’d contemplated the door, wishing he’d return.

The Hawkeye estate had never felt particularly homey. The building itself was crumbling and austere, full of spiderwebs and dust that neither her efforts nor Roy’s could ever seem to banish. Angeline, a friend of her mother’s, had once told her that the mansion was never quite the same after Elizabeth Hawkeye had died.

Elizabeth had died giving birth to Riza, so the girl had grown up never really knowing what home was supposed to feel like.

For a few short years, Riza thought she finally knew what that word meant. Roy had brought life back into the Hawkeye household, made Riza understand what it felt like to be loved unconditionally.

And now he was gone and her father was even more distant than ever.

Riza sighed, rising to dump out the two cold cups of tea. Maybe home was a myth, after all.

 

Roy unlocked his apartment door, heaving his heavy rucksack to the floor in the entryway and leaning heavily against the door.

He had never felt so exhausted and alone.

In truth, he should be thankful. This was the first time in six months that he’d been in anything more permanent than a tent, the first time he’d had privacy, the first time he’d been safe.

He didn’t feel safe, though.

The darkened corners of his living room looked like places attackers could hide – never mind the rooms and hallways he couldn’t even see. Even when he frantically ran through his apartment, turning on all the lights, the fear didn’t dissipate. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was fire and blood, the corpses of the innocents he’d slaughtered in Ishval.

It had happened in Ishval, too. He’d woken up more nights than he cared to admit, yelling and panting in fear, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Hughes, his bunkmate, to his credit, never said a word, never teased, never pried. When he woke with a start from Roy’s screams, he’d whip out a new photo of his sweetheart Gracia – Roy never did figure out where he stored _so many pictures_ – and babbled on about the woman he loved. Somehow, this little reminder that there _was_ good in the world always soothed Roy’s pounding heart, always lulled him back to sleep.

One night, when Hughes was in the infirmary with sunstroke, Roy’s unending howls had woken Riza, who always ensured her tent was next to his. She’d taken her vow to follow him at any cost seriously, rushing into his tent with a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other, yelling at the nonexistent intruder to leave her commander alone.

When she’d realized that no one was there except Roy’s demons, she’d thrown the weapons away and hugged him tight, desperately soothing him and chasing the demons away. She’d remained on guard the entire night, not even accepting a cup of coffee the following morning as thanks.

He should feel safer here, back in Central, far from the battlefield. And yet, without Hughes or Hawkeye, he felt more vulnerable than ever.

How was it that he felt more at home in hostile territory than in his own living room?

 

The door shut behind Breda with a grim finality as he carried the last box of his things out of the office. Roy put his face in his hands, his shoulders slumping.

He was in check, his pieces all gone, and he was scared out of his wits.

His office no longer felt like a fortress, but a killing ground.

Unease quickly turned to distress, and Roy felt as though he couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of the office, away from Central Command and the too-empty room and everything else that reminded him of his men. He all but ran past the breakroom where Breda spent a substantial portion of his time, the kitchenette where Riza prepared her tea, the office where Fuery could be caught awkwardly wooing Sheska, the file rooms Falman had practically memorized. Havoc’s favorite desk sergeant waved goodbye to Roy as he finally escaped the building, chest heaving as he took in the blessed fresh air.

If he didn’t even feel safe in his “throne room,” as Havoc sarcastically called it one day, where _could_ he feel safe?

As he desperately tried to find a strategy that could save his team, himself, and their plan, his feet took him down familiar paths through Central. When he looked up to see where he’d wound up, he couldn’t help but laugh.

His aunt’s bar.

In many ways, the bar and the office were more like home to him than his own apartment. He certainly spent more time at either of those places than at home.

Roy started to head inside, stopping with his hand around the door handle before realization turned his blood to ice.

His enemies knew he often went here, yes. His “womanizing” was no secret around Central – precisely the way he wanted it. In the past he’d gained plenty of important intel by pretending to think with an organ somewhat further south than his brain.

Now, though, was keeping up that act worth it? Bradley _knew_ he was up to something – the disbanding of his team proved it. He couldn’t just play dumb to get himself out of this one.

Going into the bar wouldn’t achieve anything, and could potentially endanger his aunt and her girls. They weren’t just his informants, slipping him invaluable information for nothing more than a nice dinner, they were the closest thing to a family he’d ever had.

Roy wanted to go in. Oh, he desperately wanted to walk inside, tease his sisters, and forget about his troubles for a while. Madeleine would mock his stern expression, Vanessa would ask if he’d kissed Riza yet, Catherine would make him yet another of her shitty drinks. Madame Christmas would pretend not to be concerned, and fail, as she always did.

But he released the doorknob and turned to walk away, his stomach in knots. He’d already put his team in danger, particularly Riza. He felt her loss like a missing limb, like a gaping hole in his chest. He couldn’t endanger his pseudo-family, too.

Roy had lost his sanctuaries, his safe shadows to run and hide in. Even his own apartment felt more like a prison than a safe haven.

He was a danger to everyone around him, and so he’d keep no one around him.

He was well and truly alone – no family, no allies, no place to call home.

 

Riza was nearly bowled over at her door as Black Hayate greeted her, barking enthusiastically at the sight of his master.

She smiled, crouching down to pet her little dog, laughing as he showered her with puppy kisses. “It’s good to see you too, Hayate. I missed you. Did Rebecca take good care of you while I was in the hospital?”

Hayate yipped, wagging his tail vigorously at the sound of Rebecca’s name. Riza laughed again. “Good. I’ll have to take her out to dinner, then.”

Dinner reminded her – it was about dinnertime. She pulled his container of food from her pantry, pouring it into his bowl, before turning her thoughts to her own food.

Before she realized what she was doing, she’d walked back to her living room and had her phone in hand, halfway through dialing Roy’s office phone. It was her nightly ritual – he would insist she leave work before him and continue to work himself ragged until she called and reminded him to eat dinner.

There was no reason to call today, though. Nurses still brought Roy his meals three times a day, with the night nurse Camilla often bringing him an extra bit of dessert. Riza’s injuries had healed enough for her to be discharged from the hospital, but her commander still languished there, his vision of Amestris’s future gone forever.

He insisted she not blame herself, but it was hard not to. Had she not been so careless, so weak, so damn _useless_ , he would be fine. He wouldn’t have been tortured, forced to open that cursed gate, stripped of his eyesight.

It _was_ her fault.

Riza’s hands trembled as she set down the receiver, trying to keep it together. She was strong, she was professional, she was Roy Mustang’s adjutant…

A sob escaped her lips as she crumpled to her knees, pressing her hands to her face as though that would keep the tears in. Hayate came to her side, worriedly nuzzling her, as she finally let out the grief she’d kept bottled in for the past three weeks.

She couldn’t let Roy see her cry while they shared a hospital room. He was handling enough; he didn’t need to know just how much guilt and shame she felt for failing him when he needed her most.

Here, though, away from everyone, she could allow herself to feel as guilty as she ought to.

Every sob felt like a new wound to her still-healing throat, leaving her curled in the fetal position on the floor, clutching her neck as she howled her grief and pain.

When the tears finally stopped, Riza cuddled Hayate close. She whispered, voice raw, “Hayate…it’s my fault.”

The dog whined and licked her face, pressing himself as close to his master as he could. Riza sighed into his fur, “I’m sorry, boy. I just…miss him.”

Her voice was a ghost of its normal self when she went on, “I wish he could come home.”

Even though _she_ had ostensibly come home, she’d never felt further from it.

 

“Well, here you are, boss,” Havoc said, putting the car in park. Ever since he’d gotten the use of his legs back, he’d insisted on being in charge of everyone’s transportation, chauffeuring them practically everywhere. “Home sweet home.”

Roy smiled as he unbuckled his seat belt. “Thanks for the lift, Lieutenant.”

“Get my re-enlistment paperwork fast-tracked, yeah?” Havoc said. “Running the shop was fun and all, but you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Roy laughed. “ _I’m_ the one who gives the orders around here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Havoc waved him off as he pulled out a cigarette.

Roy opened the door, starting to get out, digging in his pocket for his keys. Havoc caught his arm, surprising the colonel. “Lieutenant?”

“Thanks for helping me get my legs back, sir,” Havoc said. His voice was tight with emotion. “Especially before you got your vision back. I…I can’t repay that. I’ll try. But…I know I can’t.”

Roy smiled again – Havoc was as emotionally constipated as Riza liked to accuse Roy of being, if not even worse. “I take care of my men, Havoc. Last I checked, that included you.”

Havoc smiled too. “Y’know, boss, I never regretted it, not for a second. Even if I never got to walk again, what we were trying to do…it was worth it. But damn, I can’t say it doesn’t feel good to be able to walk, drive, all of it. I’m not a great gambler, but I think I did good when I bet on you.”

With this, he lit up his cigarette, tucked the lighter away, and said, “Now get. I have a date with Becca. She helped take care of my broken ass for months, and now that I can use my whole body again, I plan on making that up to her.”

Roy rolled his eyes, closing the car door so Havoc could speed off.

He walked up the familiar steps to his apartment, taking extra time to admire the sights he’d never fully appreciated before. The wrought-iron banisters, the well-worn runner on the stairs, the elaborate doorknocker on his front door…he’d seen them every day; how had he never noticed them before?

Roy unlocked his door and headed inside, hanging up his coat on the coatrack as he always did.

He sighed, somehow feeling let down. Somehow, he’d hoped for some kind of warm, fuzzy feeling upon his triumphant return home.

Instead, he felt even emptier and lonelier than he had when he’d been blind.

He knew why, too – he wasn’t stupid.

When he’d been in the hospital, he’d shared a room with Riza. Her presence, even if he couldn’t see her, had been comforting. When she’d had trouble sleeping, tormented by pain or nightmares of nearly dying, he’d told her stories of his childhood, growing up in his aunt’s bar, learning how to make drinks from the time he was old enough to reach the counter.

When his blindness became too much, when his chest grew tight and he found himself clawing at his face, desperate to remove the blindfold that wasn’t there, Riza would comfort him. She sat beside him, describing the room in the perfect detail only the Hawk’s Eye could manage, even when her voice grew raw and ragged from her injury.

No, this empty apartment, sparsely decorated, with few personal effects to indicate anyone even lived there, was not home.

Not after those blessed three weeks with Riza.

 

Riza laughed as Roy pulled her close with one hand, kissing his way up her neck while digging in his pocket for their room key with his other hand. She scolded, hardly meaning it, “Roy, stop! We’re in public!”

“Not for much longer,” Roy purred into her neck, finally producing the keys and turning to unlock the room.

He pushed it open, revealing a luxurious hotel suite containing a massive bed covered in white rose petals, a bottle of champagne sitting on the endtable. Riza rolled her eyes. “Roy. We didn’t need a room this big. It’s just us!”

He picked her up, carrying her bridal-style over the threshold, shutting the door behind him before gently laying her down on the bed. He replied, “It’s the Honeymoon Suite, my love. Of course we needed it. Only the best for my queen.”

Riza pulled Roy down onto the bed beside her, smiling at his undignified noise of surprise. She cupped his face in her hands, kissing him and murmuring, “I love you, Mr. Mustang.”

“And I love you, Mrs. Mustang,” Roy murmured back, running his hand through her long golden hair. “I love you more than anything else in this damn world.”

“I always have,” Riza agreed. “And now we don’t have to hide it anymore.”

Roy pulled her close, relishing in the feeling of finally, _finally_ being able to hold her the way he’d always wanted to, no longer fearing being caught. The boys had made plenty of crude jokes as they saw their commanders off on their honeymoon – he was more than certain Havoc and Breda had slipped _at least_ one box of condoms into his luggage – but at this moment, this was more than enough for him. He could die a happy man right now, now that he could finally hold Riza in his arms and hear the steady beat of her heart.

“What’s on your mind?” Riza asked, breaking the silence.

“You,” Roy replied honestly.

“Anything in particular?” Riza teased.

“How lucky I am to have you. How happy I am to finally be home,” Roy said, entwining his hand with hers. Damn, the feel of her wedding ring against his skin was wonderful.

“We’re not home, though,” Riza said, confusion plain in her voice. “We haven’t lived in the east for years.”

“Riza, I have you. It doesn’t matter where we are. I’ll always be home, as long as you’re there,” Roy replied.

Riza was quiet a moment, and it took Roy longer than he cared to admit to realize she was crying. He immediately took her face in his hands, rubbing her tears away with his thumbs, asking desperately, “What? What did I say? Riza, I…”

“You’re right, Roy. You’re absolutely right,” Riza managed through her tears. “There’s that old saying. ‘Home is where the heart is.’ And that means my home’s with you.”

“Now and forever,” Roy agreed.

As they kissed, still clutching each other tight, Roy and Riza were in agreement on one thing. 

There was no better feeling than finally coming home.


End file.
